


if it's a sure thing that you need (cut your finger and watch it bleed)

by d__T



Category: Blood Drive (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Consensual Dubcon, Dissociation, Knifeplay, M/M, Scene Gone Wrong, Top Drop, domestic content, ends on a positive note but it's gnarly before that, failed rapeplay, julian up to his usual bullshit, reality distortion from the non-pov character, simulated kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: Julian has created a fantasy life for himself and Rasher. It's idyllic, perfect in every way, and a twisted parody of his first life. Rasher grows tired of it and kidnaps him right out of the fantasy.
Relationships: Rasher/Julian Slink
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags.
> 
> The first chapter sets up the scene. The second chapter is the whole situation. The third chapter is the moving on.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s about the time the clave postman comes and Julian bounds up, eager like a dog to see what’s merited a knock instead of just leaving it in the mailbox.

It is indeed the postman, passing a small box into Julian’s waiting hands. Rasher wonders what the postman thinks of them, where on the vine of stories that Julian has grown is he trapped?

This time Julian wanted to be normal. They’ve got a nice house in a nice clave and they’re living- openly, Rasher supposes. Rasher still flinches a little more than Julian when either of them say  _my husband_ but Julian is defiantly living out a fantasy from a past life, and Rasher is along for the ride. He passes daydreams designing the next fantasy, indulging in the simplicity of ruins.

He gets the feeling that he should be wearing a pretty dress sometimes, but that’s more Julian’s thing lately. A little deviance in the evenings perfectly hidden behind curtains. Normal, like every family here. Normal, like Julian wasn’t strutting around on stage in drag this time last year.

Julian returns with the package, slightly crestfallen. “It’s for you.”

Rasher checks the return address. Innovative Solutions, Spice Island. He’s ordered from them before, he knows what this is. He teases, “Oh, no, it’s definitely for you.”

He slits it open with his pocket knife. Inside is a coil of paper, which he crunches up and throws at Julian, who bats it away. Underneath are five large bundles of rope and two smaller bundles, all in a bright rainbow color scheme. He hefts a bundle up, bouncing it in his hand. It’s heavier than it looks. He tosses it to Julian, who catches it. “How about that?”

Julian inspects it, turning it over in his hands before pulling the release knot out to let it fall into a puddle in his lap. “They’re doing incredible things with the dye these days.”

Julian winds the rope back up and Rasher admires his hands and the flow of the color through his fingers, thinking about how well Julian had taken to a kink that was just his own at the beginning. “Wanna go play with it?”

Julian makes a contemplative sound and hands the bundle back. “Later.”

“Yeah?” Rasher offers but Julian doesn’t take the bait. He places the bundle back in the box with the others and sets it aside. “C’mere, you big idiot.”

Julian comes easily enough, laying back with his legs across Rasher’s lap. Rasher wraps his hands around them, just holding.

“What.” Julian asks.

“We can just leave.” Rasher offers. He always feels like he’s throwing darts blindfolded when he does this, but it’s worth it for the times that he gets it right. “If you don’t like it here, we can stop. Whenever you want. Right now, next week, whatever you want.”

Julian draws his knees up to his chest, suspicion in his eyes.

Rasher feels like he’s missing every throw. “I’ll let you pretend you don’t want it. I could kidnap you, you’d look real cute all tied up and struggling in the trunk of that car of yours. Stop just out of town and have a little fun with you, get you angry enough to start your life over again.”

Julian gets up and walks away, hitting him with a dark look just before disappearing into the other room.

Rasher shrugs to himself. Julian’s game will come to an end one way or another.

Julian wasn’t wearing a dress that day, and he doesn’t wear a dress again for another week.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s inversions with them, there always are. Julian’s working, although Rasher doesn’t know what this job is and he isn’t inclined to pry and find out. Rasher usually takes side gigs in the off season- Julian’s embezzling is enough to keep them decently well off- but he likes to keep his hand in and have a little of his own money but this time he’s a kept man. He’s honed his cooking and annoyed all the other housewives in his idleness; Julian serves and washes the dishes, apron strings at the small of his back. It’s a fantasy, and not one of theirs anymore.

Julian gets changed as soon as he gets home. He doesn’t say anything to Rasher before, some kind of fear or determination in his eyes. Rasher knows that the end starts now, and waits for his cue.

It takes Julian much longer than usual to emerge from their bedroom but when he does- “Oh my god, darling, you’re beautiful.”

Rasher says it because it’s true, and it’s what he’s supposed to say. Rasher looks him up and down and up again, open with his appreciation. He always is, but Julian has gone to extra effort and he must respond accordingly. 

Julian is wearing- dainty kitten heels, stockings that Rasher bets end halfway up his thighs, a prim knee length dress with a sweetheart bosom in ash and orange that super doesn’t match the saccharine mint of the time that they’re living in, and his nails are glossy and red like fresh blood. His god makeup is back too, the darkened eyes and harshly defined cheekbones and the split in his lip made with a knife.

Julian uses his doll voice. Julian knows he finds it very disturbing. “I’m ready, daddy.”

Rasher blinks. Yeah, okay. “Dinner first, darling.”

He lets Julian set everything out unsupervised- he hadn’t planned a farewell dinner, and Julian needs his secrets. He goes to their bedroom and sure enough there’s two bags at the foot of the bed. One of them is Julian’s and it’s got all the things he’d expect in it, and the other is for him. The contents show him which of his darts landed. It’s almost right for what Julian is showing him; he trades a few things out.

Then, moving quickly, he sets out a chunk of black rope and the handcuffs they’ve had since their first kill together in auspicious locations about the house.

He comes back out to the dining area and Julian is waiting for him. The deference is uncanny and he can’t wait for it to be over.

“Is everything okay?” Julian asks in the doll voice.

“Just making sure my surprise for you is ready. Let’s eat.” He sits, and Julian sits.

They eat and it’s good but the tense atmosphere makes up for all of Rasher’s improved cooking. He’s tempted to cut it short, haul Julian out right now, but this is the end of it and they’ve gotta play it all the way through.

Julian brings out desert, some strange tart fluff thing that Rasher oddly enjoys although Julian will certainly mock him for it later. He doesn’t know what it is but Julian clearly does so he tells himself to ask about it later when they’re different people.

Julian gathers up the plates like he’s going to wash them.

Rasher comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Julian’s waist. “Don’t you want your surprise?”

“I-I gotta-”

It’s incredibly unsettling to hear Julian flounder, especially in the doll voice. He thinks as loudly as he can _the conditioning is hard to break_ but says, “They’ll wait. C’mon, you’re gonna love it.”

Julian turns in his arms, dubious look on his face. “Really?”

Rasher kisses his nose. “I promise.”

He navigates them into the living room, Julian tagging along after him.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me.”

“Not yet, darling.” Rasher smiles reassuringly. “I got something else for you first.”

“Oh-” Julian says, uncertain.

“Right-” Rasher pauses them, hands on Julian’s hips, “-here, stay here.”

He moves around Julian, tweaking his dress until it’s hanging perfectly. From behind, he loops a fine silver chain around Julian’s neck, clasping it and by feel settling the black polished stone disc to hang down Julian’s cleavage.

“That’s for you, sweetheart.” Rasher murmurs. 

Julian’s going to say something, he can see it in his broad shoulders under the wide straps of the dress.

He can’t let that happen. He might not be able to pull this off if Julian says something cute in response to a new rock. Rasher hooks his elbow around Julian’s neck and yanks him over backwards, more than happy to free himself of the doll voice that Julian’s been using.

Julian yells out, the first sound he’s made in his natural voice. Rasher hides his relief and shoves Julian down to the floor.

Julian gasps, doll voice again, eyes wide. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Too late for that, sweetie.” Rasher grunts as Julian lands a hit on him. He kneels across Julian’s chest, one knee on him and the other trapping an arm. He grabs Julian's other arm and gets the cuff on and ratcheted down so tightly that it’ll cut if Julian pulls before Julian upsets him and knocks him back.

Rasher kicks back at him, chases him, drags Julian’s free arm into the cuff and crushes it closed.

Julian sits up, hissing at him.

Rasher kneels across the chain between Julian’s hands and Julian might hit him in the nuts but it’s worth the risk. He draws Julian’s head to him and kisses him gently, too gently. “You know I have to do this, right?” And tilts his head to bite his canine into Julian’s split lip.

Julian jerks back, lip bleeding freely for a moment.

Rasher grins. “You’re coming with me now.”

“No, don’t hurt me.” Julian says, halfway into the doll voice, jerking one leg up and managing to hit Rasher in the back of the leg. It hurts but not too badly all keyed up like this.

“Too fucking bad.” Rasher stands, taking Julian’s hands with him. Julian scrambles, trying to get to his feet too but Rasher moves quickly, dragging him backwards by his hands. Julian plays along, kicking out with his feet. He’s gonna lose a shoe doing that, and Rasher isn’t going back for it.

Rasher grabs Julian’s car keys and the length of rope he’d placed beside the key dish. He drags Julian, with some struggle and yelling from both of them and Julian finally losing that shoe, into the garage and up against the back of Julian’s car. He stands on him to keep him down as he gets the trunk open. He’ll have to move the tools to the back seat in a minute, but first.

“Plenty of space for you in there. Up you get.” He jerks Julian up by the cuffs, Julian lunges away, Rasher shoves him down and into the trunk, just barely avoiding knocking his head badly. It leaves Julian’s legs sticking out and Julian has crossed them coyly at the ankles. Rasher sneers down at him. “Cute.”

Julian makes his  _who, me?_ mou back up at him.

Rasher traps Julian’s legs between his own to keep him under control as he rummages the tape out from the tool box. He tapes Julian’s ankles together, over wrapping the tape to make sure it stays. He heaves Julian’s legs into the trunk, folding him up to make him fit. Julian tries to kick out but with his feet under the sill of the trunk, he’s unsuccessful. 

Rasher puts the toolbox on the garage floor and when he looks back in at Julian, Julian has arranged himself like trope, posed himself to be attractive. And incidentally, made it easy for Rasher to loop the rope around the cuff chain and bind his hands to his waist with the knot at his back. The tails are just long enough to loop around the tape around his ankles, and then he’s all bound up.

Julian wiggles a little, somewhere between a struggle and enjoying himself. Rasher looks down on him again, one arm up on the edge of the trunk lid. “If you dislocate your thumbs to get out of the cuffs, I’ll cut them off.”

And then he slams the lid. He can hear Julian yelling.

Rasher has a few things to do back in the house. He’d known this was coming and so the preparations to leave are pretty much done. He makes a phone call, leaves a key and an address to a shipping container on the table, hides another key outside the front door. He gathers up their bags, turns out all the lights, and locks up behind himself.

There’s something bittersweet about it even though he’s glad to be leaving.

He loads up the back seat, and while he’s doing that, Julian starts yelling again.

Julian glowers up at him when he opens the trunk. “Let me go, you fucking freak!”

“That’s a mean thing to say,” Rasher says soothingly. Julian’s dress has twisted around him and is falling down one shoulder, and some of Rasher’s favorite looks on Julian are ‘debauched’ and ‘about to be debauched’. “I _was_ right, you are very cute tied up in your own trunk.”

He reaches down to hold Julian’s face and smear some of his makeup back into place, and Julian snaps at his hand. Rasher pats him. “Tsk, tsk. Can't let you do that.” 

Rasher tapes his mouth shut. “Now you’re even cuter.”

Julian inhales, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, and makes a horrible guttural sound. It’s almost as good as Rasher can do.

“That’s my boy.” Rasher approves, sliding a hand down Julian’s chest and under the dress to feel him up. Julian presses against his hand a little. “You’re gonna be so good for me now, aren’t you.”

He tugs at the top of the dress, twisting it further. He knows that he won’t be able to make a nip slip happen because Julian has all of his clothing fitted to exactly how he wants it but it makes Julian writhe which is just as good.

He pats Julian’s side, breaths heaving under his hand, before rucking up the hem of the dress and trapping the bundle of fabric under Julian’s bound hands. Julian twists uselessly as Rasher fondles his crotch through his undies. “These are cute, did you wear them just for me?”

Julian shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s a pity. You should have.” He pats Julian’s dick, and then slaps him suddenly across his flank. Julian yelps and jerks, testing his bonds.

“If you get the cops called on us, I will kill you. And all of them.” Rasher makes a contemplative face before smiling and patting the place he’d just slapped. “I don’t think it’ll be difficult. Gotta keep you all to myself. So shut up and be good, huh?” He pats Julian again before locking the trunk shut.

Rasher gets the car out onto the street, makes sure that the garage is closed, and slowly rolls down to the gates at the end of the neighborhood. He waves an electronic pass at reader. It blinks its little red light at him and then after a moment gate lifts up. And then he’s free of the clave.

He’s excited to never go back again.

Claves attract dirty strip malls like flies to shit. There’s one nearby, skulking around the ankles of the high rise office buildings like a feral cat that will bite if it’s not fed. Rasher considers going there, but Julian is probably familiar with the area. He wants to get Julian disoriented and keep him that way.

He cruises down the main strip a little slower than he has to. This place is alive in a way that the clave isn’t, and that the clave wants him to forget the loss that he’s feeling about it. Sure, much of the life is bacterial scunge and the rest is over-lit by neon and grime but this is the familiar place to him. Comforting in its ubiquitous anonymity.

He selects a gas station that has enough lot space to let him park away from the door, and trundles on into get himself road snacks. No gas for this car, though.

He pulls out, going back the way they came. He skirts the clave and then a cluster of even more exclusive and obnoxious claves. It  _would_ have been nice to know beforehand if Julian was dealing in grime or shine because this car is way too damn recognizable so he’d know where to avoid. It doesn’t  _really_ matter because far enough out of town and it won’t matter one bit who Julian was.

The rich claves have their own strip, but it’s a victim of zoning and has been pushed out of eyesight and sleaze out of mind. 

Beyond that is more road, winding now, the route original to the desiccated and starved town coming up around him. It predates the Scar and like most places, lost hard. It’s crumbling now, sticks and iron bones sticking in the ground. And at long last beyond that, a dimly lit motel with a gravel lot and hourly rates posted under the peeling sign.

He almost stops and then keeps going. There’s something about it that he doesn’t trust and with Julian incapacitated, he doesn’t want to find out what the fuck is up the hard way.

And then there’s just darkness.

Rasher drives until the clouds split and the stark light of the moon overpowers the weak headlights and the orange glow of the dash lights. He turns the headlights and dash lights off; he can see perfectly well in the grey tones that the moon provide him. It gives him a bit of a floating feeling, the moon streaking like sliver off of the long fenders of the car, the lap of Julian’s luxury floating like a two tone feather over the asphalt. He’s getting a little out of his head when he needs to focus on the larger task at hand. Every detail counts now.

He passes up a turn off- it looks too much like a farm access road- and bit of desperation rises in him. If he takes much longer, Julian will stop playing along.

Fortune shows him an abandoned jug handle turn. It’s deep enough, overgrown enough to hide the car in. He wonder idly what it used to connect, but that’s only his problem if it crawls out of the feral corn fields and tries to eat him.

He shuts the car off and breathes out into the darkness, letting his hands slide off of the wheel and down into his lap. He reviews what he needs in his head, visualizing each step. Getting his knife roll that Julian packed for him, the square press of the lube bottle in his back pocket, all of it swirled in the exhilaration of playing this close to the edge. It’s too much, he wants to move quickly and recklessly but this is Julian, not some fucker that he’s trapped. He has to be as careful as he usually is, maybe even moreso.

He remembers Julian’s smirk the first time that they met. Like he already knew everything that Rasher wanted to do to him before they’d ever spoken, and was okay with it. That fearless confidence that no one had ever welcomed him into their car with before. The intoxication hasn’t really stopped.

Deliberately he selects his intimidation knife and the tiny sharp one that Julian had slid in beside it. He tucks the big one into the back of his jeans, under his belt, and the little one into a swoop in the metal near the rear bumper where it’ll be easy to access before throwing the blanket down behind the car. It’s more for his own knees than Julian’s comfort- Julian will fall hard regardless.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Time to see how Julian’s doing.

The trunk swings open under the key. Julian’s laying in a twist, mostly on his side and blinking unhappily up at Rasher. The trunk light is shining across Julian’s face; Julian is probably blinded by it but Rasher can see just fine with the dim glow. Julian’s makeup is tracked a little, he’s been crying in the privacy of the trunk.

It means that Julian’s gotten whatever he wanted and that whatever they do next is something like a game. It’s almost a relief but instead it only makes them unbalanced.

Rasher forcibly rolls Julian over to access the rope tying his legs back. Julian straightens his legs out with a groan the instant that Rasher releases the rope. Rasher coils it up and drops it behind him for later.

Usually he doesn’t transport his victims and when he does, they’re dead by the time they go in the trunk. Julian’s looking at him like he’s going to intentionally make problems and Rasher isn’t interested in trying to hoist Julian’s heavy ass up and out of the trunk. He braces himself against the trunk lid, rucks up the front of his shirt with his other hand, and grabs Julian around the shoulders with his tentacles.

Julian yelps and struggles, forcing Rasher to step back as the tentacles try to pull them together. It drags Julian up and out of the trunk until his legs drop to the ground with a painful sounding thud and the sudden shift in weight pulls Rasher down on top of him.

It’s far less coordinated than Rasher had wanted it to be but it’s good enough; they’re on the ground now. He draws the knife from the back of his jeans as he retracts his tentacles, making sure to keep Julian caged with his body the whole time.

Julian’s looking at him like he’d be smirking if his mouth wasn’t taped shut and Rasher can’t handle it so he noses in under Julian’s ear, feeling his rising heat and pulse, pressing words close against his throat, “Normally you’d be dead by now. I don’t like to let them struggle. But you, you’re special.” He slowly licks a bar across Julian’s neck before sliding the flat of the blade across the wet spot and letting it stick to and pull the skin there. “Don’t you like that, being special?”

He pushes the point of the blade in under Julian’s jaw.

Julian outright moans.

Rasher almost laughs, but quelling it leaves an awful taste in his throat. “It’s no fun when you enjoy it, you nasty slut.”

Julian rolls his eyes.

Rasher flips the blade over, dragging the spine down Julian’s throat, along his collarbones, down his cleavage. Julian shivers and whines.

“Issa good thing I brought you all the way out here, huh.” Rasher remarks conversationally as he wiggles the blade down the front of the dress until the notches near the hilt catch on the fabric. “I’m gonna make you scream before I kill you and _nobody_ but me will hear you.”

Julian is panting, chest heaving under the spine of the blade. Rasher yanks at it, ripping through the fabric down to his bound hands in two great heaves. He then drops the knife to pull the halves open, revealing Julian’s body. “Hm. I might have to keep you alive. You’re too perfect to just _kill_.”

Julian glowers at him.

“Yeah, you wanna say something?” Rasher pauses in trailing the knife over Julian’s chest to slide the point under corner of the tape like he’ll pull it free. Julian nods, the motion just barely a tremor. The corner of the tape slips free as Rasher lifts the knife away. “Too fucking bad.”

Julian immediately squirms under him, trying to get away. Rasher digs both hands into the muscles of Julian’s chest and shoulders, admiring it, forcing a low groan out of Julian. “Oh, you _like_ this? That’s filthy, darling. Or are you just faking it to please me? I’ll just have to find out.”

Julian protests, heavy breaths and twisting as Rasher slides one hand down between his legs to grope there again. He’s wet and the pressure of Rasher’s hand soaks it through the thin fabric. He presses harder, making Julian whine. “Feel that? You know you shouldn’t, but you want it. You want it so bad you’d do anything I say. Wouldn’t you?” He’s practically cooing.

He grabs Julian’s ass, fingers pressing his undies in between his cheeks, and pulls, fingers sliding over and around and surprise, catching the edge of a small plug that Julian’s got in. It’s a little one, no discomfort to wear for a long time. Julian jerks when he touches it.

“Oh, was this supposed to be a secret?” Rasher asks cruelly. “Perhaps a little surprise for your boyfriend. Make yourself easy and get fucked the way you want but can’t ask for, huh?”

Julian squirms, trying to turn out of his hands and sight.

“Good boys don’t like it up the ass, but that’s okay. I don’t mind.” Rasher fiddles with the plug, and Julian is struggling to hide his desire. “I’ll fuck you slow and tender and make you love me more than him.”

He purrs. “Leave you dirty, put the plug back in and deliver you home and let you face your shame.”

Julian writhes desperately.

“Think you could do it? Show him how nasty you are and see if he still respects you at all after that?” Rasher licks over the tape on his lips, a gross mockery of a kiss. “Or you could stay with me. Run away with me and leave that old life behind.”

Julian whines and Rasher recognizes the need in his tone, feels it in his hands, but can’t quite feel it in himself.

“I’ll keep you for a very long time.”

Julian rocks his ass against Rasher’s hands trying to entice him, trying to provoke him.

Rasher just rubs at the base of the plug through his undies, pulling at it, stretching him.

Rasher picks up the knife from beside them, flipping it in his hand to grip carefully by the blade. He pulls Julian’s undies aside to bare the base of the plug, and taps it with the hilt several times. It clicks and with each impact, Julian twitches and gasps.

“Oh, you’re sweet.” Rasher keeps tapping, pausing briefly to remove the tape from Julian’s face. It leaves a red mark and Julian coughs before hissing  _vile pervert_ at him.

His body isn’t- keeping up with Julian’s cues, he is not aroused. The watchdogs in his brain that separate his vices are too good. He wants desperation in his mouth, to eat it, it makes him feel good, but not this kind and not in this way. He can’t sate the hunger that he’s got now just by fucking Julian hard and saying dirty words to him.

And he can’t butcher Julian.

The dissonance in him snaps as he pushes his body against Julian’s, trying to force himself. It’s not reacting like Julian wants, needs, whatever. He can’t do this like this, but it’s too late to stop. He shoves them apart, falling back to sit with his arms around his legs, long knife dangling from his fingers. Julian struggles to look at him, still bound.

“You’re not like them.” Rasher moves, kneeling over Julian again. “You can’t be like them. They’re nothing and you’re everything.”

He bends until his face is pressed against Julian’s bare chest, head tucked under his chin. Julian is trying to hold him, seeking his hips and his ribs with his bound hands.

It’s clumsy and disgusting in its clumsiness; Rasher rears back to get away from him again, scrambling and angry. “I can’t- I won’t-”

“I’ll come back,” Julian promises, “Whatever you do.”

Rasher laughs hollowly. Julian doesn’t know what he allows. Doesn’t understand the horrible convergence that he asks for.

“Take it out on me. Take it all out on me.”

Rasher snarls, putting space between them with it. “How can you be so fucking stupid?”

He wants to, he needs to, he can’t allow it.

“Fuck me, then.” Julian offers. “Degrade me, use me, and pretend.”

_Pretend_ .

“Pretend?” Rasher snarls. “Do you think I can _pretend_ like this? It’s not enough!"

Julian is grinning, blood-black between his teeth. Rasher hates it.

“I know you think you deserve it.” Rasher grits. “Do I?” He demands, “Do I?”

And Julian’s face falls.

He draws back again. “Move and I’ll gut you.”

Things are coming into focus again; the foreshortened gritty focus of the grey tones that the moon is casting everything in. He grabs the work gloves from the trunk, and a condom. The gloves are black with dirt but he’ll need one to hold the knife by the blade. He can fix this.

Julian is rubbing his dick with one finger when he returns, the motion so small that Rasher wouldn’t be able to see it without being all the different kinds of monster that he is.

“Stop that.” Rasher commands. He moves Julian’s hands with the toe of his boot, crushing his fingers against the ground until Julian yowls.

He kneels down beside Julian again, pulling his ass towards him. He pulls the plug out of him, dropping it aside.

He rolls the condom down the hilt of the knife, streaks lube over it. The pommel must be warm; Julian doesn’t flinch immediately when he presses the blunt metal end against Julian’s hole. But he does still when the metal breaches him with the covered texture of the wrapped grip after it.

Rasher grips the blade in one gloved hand and thrusts it in until the hilt catches against his hole. Julian groans and pants, wide eyed.

And then Rasher fucks him.

Slow and methodical until Julian loosens around the hard length. Methodical, until Julian is begging through his teeth. Until he feels the clench of Julian’s orgasm in his hand, the glut of wet-heat against his leg.

The heat startles him, jerking him out of focus and back into horror. He pulls the knife out of Julian, dropping it too as he scrambles back onto his feet, staring down at him.

Julian looks up at him, something that Rasher can’t read on his face. Rasher looks away, turns away. He hears a disgusting pop and a grunt of pain and he glances back. Julian is jamming his thumb back into place, having dislocated it to get one wrist free of the cuffs.

Julian uses the small knife that Rasher had hidden on the bumper to slit the tape around his ankles; it’s bonded to his stockings and slides right off. He hauls himself to his feet using the bumper of the car. Sheds the ruined shell of his dress.

He stands before Rasher, nearly naked but for his undies and the black stone necklace. He doesn’t seem hurt or damaged or degraded; he’s proud. He’s like a phoenix; Rasher can’t look at him.

Rasher turns away and instantly Julian’s strong hand is on his arm, pulling him back.

Julian presses him back against the cold side of the car; Rasher scrabbles at him, scratching him.

“You got me out of there, you brought me back to myself. You give me what I want perfectly, you give me what I need every time, and you do not hurt me when you do that.”

The words burn as they roll over him. Julian lies, he speaks so many words. He shoves back and down at Julian; he’ll go backwards over the car if he fucking has to.

Julian grabs his collar and pulls him down again. There’s roughness in his voice now. “You are mine, no matter what you do. I am yours, no matter what I ask for.”

He leans in close to Rasher’s ear. “Thank you.”

And Rasher shatters, sobbing against Julian’s bare shoulder.

Julian holds him until they’re both shaking; Rasher with the aftershocks and Julian with the cool night air.

Julian dries his face with his shirt, and then his shoulder. Rasher slumps dully under his ministrations. He goes when Julian opens the car door and presses him down into the front seat. He sits, slumping in against himself. 

Julian looks at him. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.” Julian says fondly. “I’ll be right back.”

Rasher knows, objectively, that Julian is cleaning himself off, changing his clothing, coming back to himself. Emotionally, he’s completely empty, gaping wide open and waiting for something to fall in.

It’ll be Julian. Consumable. Replaceable. There’s always another of him; watch him change his face in a word, pivoting reality around him like a topsy-turvy carnival ride. Kill him, and he’ll pop up right behind. He is endless, and Rasher is not.

Rasher aches.

Julian slides into the driver’s side, dressed like himself again, “We can’t stay here.” Julian pulls him down onto his side with his head in Julian’s lap.

Julian drives, one hand on the wheel, one on Rasher.

Eventually Rasher sleeps.


	3. Chapter 3

Rasher wakes up some time later, a terrible crick in his shoulders. He turns and nuzzles in against Julian’s belly, briefly seeing the slate rose color of a sunrise beside them.

“Wakey wakey.” Julian murmurs, running his fingers through his loose hair. He can’t remember untying it.

Rasher groans and blanks the light out again with Julian’s body. “Did you stop?”

Julian hums the affirmative.

“You should have-” Rasher starts.

“You were asleep.” Julian says, leaving no room for disagreement but still petting his head. “I wasn’t going to move you.”

Rasher nods, acquiescing. 

“Where are we going?”

“Find me a diner and I’ll show you the map.”

“Sure thing.” Julian chuckles, picking the keys up off the dash and starting the car.

The diner is an artifact, still carrying the Denny’s Donuts branding. It’s the sort of thing that’s spiritually embedded in the American landscape like nails in the bottom of a badly reupholstered chair. Forgotten but entirely necessary.

Once inside, Julian asks again. “Where are we going?”

Rasher flops their heavily revised atlas open on the table between them and points three states north. “I hear it rains up there.”

“Who are we?”

“Lovers.”

“That’s all?”

“Ourselves.”

Julian nods in agreement. “It’s time.”


End file.
